


Danger Zone

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet [8]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Drama, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. Better late than never.





	Danger Zone

**Author's Note:**

> A whole lotta talking.
> 
> What else are we good at?
> 
> Also, pacing - what is that? XP

Why it didn’t occur to him to at least brush his hair, much less smooth out his attire, Connor fumed at himself in relative silence. Staring into the wall-to-wall mirror, he processed his new orders and simultaneously groomed. He could multitask to that extent, keep his mind off of all the less-endearing aspects of the pending ‘special order’ mission. ****  
** **

He wasn’t given even three minutes’ peace before Hank Anderson barged into the restroom. ****  
** **

“What did he say to you?” Hank demanded, stopping just a few paces away from him, one hand onto the counter of the bathroom sinks. “What did he do, Connor?” ****  
** **

So much for ceremony. ****  
** **

Pausing mid-brush, considering his answer, Connor finished the stroke before glancing over at his supervisor. “Insofar as what he did, we conversed. As for what he said… he offered me a lead.” ****  
** **

“Offered you a lead, or forcin’ you to do his dirty work?” Shaking his head, Hank glanced at himself in the mirror with a sigh, before turning his attention back to Connor. “Fuck, this is just  _ great. ‘ _ Course he would find a way to come back down here…”  ****  
** **

Back. ****  
** **

That was as illuminating as it was bewildering. ****  
** **

“This has happened before?” ****  
** **

“Way more than just twice. Why d’you think we all turn into instant fuckin’ mutes when he comes around?” Hank wiped a hand down his face in frustration, before starting again. “Way he is, we're basically bought and owned by him. Fuck, last time he used us to clean house… listen, I have pride in my job, Connor. But the stuff we do for him? There's no fucking pride in that.”  ****  
** **

Hank was talking in generalities. Without specifics, reasons why he should feel trepidation at ever accepting an order from Javier Sindino, Connor had no firsthand experience. How was he supposed to appreciate being ashamed without knowing what to seem abashed about? ****  
** **

Comb still in hand, Connor made to resume brushing. “Lieutenant, I’m afraid you’re not making sense.” ****  
** **

“Yeah, yeah. You want a story? Fine. Last time was probably the fuckin’ worst. Seems every couple years he's got a guy or two he needs out of the business, fast, but he can't just fire them. That would be too easy, huh?” Raising an eyebrow at him, Hank crossed his arms. “So he gets a few people here together, parcels out the issue, and tells them to do something shady. Last time, we broke into one of his businesses. Only problem is, he decided not to mention it had security of its own.”  ****  
** **

That already flew in the face of one basic fact Sindino proclaimed: this was (apparently) the first time someone had been caught skimming. But yet here was Anderson, saying the DPD already had an uneasy relationship with the midwestern tycoon, built on the same grounds. They had been called in to police in the private sector, and it apparently hadn’t been anticipated by Sindino’s own protectorate. ****  
** **

If that was so, was history about to repeat itself tonight? ****  
** **

“And? What happened?” ****  
** **

“What do you  _ think  _ happened? Some half-assed stand off, not like they were exactly in uniform. Thankfully no one died, but seriously… it could have happened. Sindino wouldn't have cared if anyone did, on either side.”  ****  
** **

_ He said he needed information, not blood. _ ****  
** **

Another pause. Miming thoughtfulness, Connor set the comb down beside the sink. Without taking his eyes off his reflection, he scowled. “Then that much about his latest set of orders is actually an improvement. He’s only after information this time, Lieutenant.” ****  
** **

“Information, like what? That he can use to fuckin’ - hurt people?” Hank persisted, seemingly unwilling to leave the matter at that. “I know he must've said some shit to you, Connor. It's Sindino.”  ****  
** **

Yes. The metaphorical comparison of whether an android was closer to a human or a bunting - that would constitute “some shit” nicely. ****  
** **

Scowl still in place, Connor glanced sideways. “I recall it was you who directed me to speak to him. What it was about, you didn’t see fit to warn me of.” ****  
** **

“I wasn't about to keep him waiting, no matter who it was he asked for. Sorry, Connor, but with him… it was safer this way. If he wants you to do his shit for him, it'll be you.”  ****  
** **

“Ergo, what are you getting at?” Finally deigning to turn his head, letting his tone and body language betray some irritation, the falcon-winged android glared with all the intensity of the bird he took after. “I already  _ know _ I need to tread carefully. What else?” ****  
** **

“You don't  _ just _ tread carefully around him, so don't get that tone with me.” Hank took a half-step closer, giving his own glare right back at him. “I'm tellin’ you, that for once in your goddamn life, to be afraid. Don't touch anythin’ he wouldn't want you to touch, no looking for anything outside the box - do exactly what he wants.”  ****  
** **

_ No more, no less? _ ****  
** **

And Hank downright ordering him to be afraid was kind of moot. It would conflict with the nature of how he was told to stage this break in. If it was the layout Sindino indicated, at that time of night, under ideal weather conditions, he could handle whatever unexpected variables there might be. ****  
** **

Plus there was the added benefit he would be flying solo. ****  
** **

Unless that facet was already compromised. ****  
** **

“I didn’t intend to extrapolate, Hank.” ****  
** **

“Fuck, ‘course you don’t. I'm just addin’ my own two cents to whatever is about to happen.” Hank backed off a bit at that, angry expression fading into a wearier one. “Best thing we can do is just get this over with, and him out of our lives, soon as possible.”  ****  
** **

At that Connor couldn’t help a light, barely-audible scoff. ****  
** **

Something told him it wouldn’t be half as simple and short lived as Anderson hoped. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

“Y’know… it’s times like these I almost wish I had all the infiltration software of a civic service model.” Standing with his face all but pressed to the glass, wingtips dragging on the floor, Joey directed his latest sullen glare at the closed file cabinets across the hallway. One short lean forward, and his nose would be on the window. “Then I could scan that damn thing and figure out just what it is taking so long.” ****  
** **

“They can't keep us in here all week, Joey,” Charlie said, still sitting on the bench. Not like there was anywhere else to be - three androids with wings effectively took up all the space in the holding cell just by being there. “Molly wouldn't stand for that.”  ****  
** **

“No. But depot manager or not, I’m getting the impression she’s not about to jump in and stir the pot here. Sky cops told her to wait, for our own good, she’ll wait.” ****  
** **

It was true. Between her and Jackie, Molly had never been one to push envelopes - especially when there was a chance they would backfire. ****  
** **

“Well… someone's gotta come tell us something, at some point.” Charlie shrugged, not sure of what else he could say to Joey. Not like they could bust out of the holding cell, or anything like that - they were all restless, anxious to get out of there. But not so anxious as to risk getting hurt/caught. “I know, it's torture for you, but we gotta wait.”  ****  
** **

Wings giving a restless twitch, Joey promptly scoffed, fogging the glass, before redirecting the slit-eyed glare over his shoulder. “Timeouts aren’t supposed to be indefinite. Think if I stuck my head in a corner, look sorry enough for the three of us, we could eventually trick them into opening the door?” ****  
** **

Trevor, now seated on the floor, gave up his absentminded inspection of the graffiti behind his back. With a half scowl, he promptly leaned away from the very suggestion, feathers bunched up behind himself. “You wanna incite a breakout, you do that alone, Joe.” ****  
** **

Breaking into the Delray warehouse, and then copping to it, Joey’s pendulum of a mind had swung back the other way. ****  
** **

Just in keeping with his semi bipolar moods. ****  
** **

“Just remember to turn your head away from the door, so they can't see you fuming. That ruins the act.” Charlie rolled his eyes at Joey, even if he couldn't actually see it. There was nothing they could do to get out, just wait out whatever time the police wanted them to be in here. “Seriously, you just gotta relax a bit, Joey. Don't get yourself all twisted right now.”  ****  
** **

“I agreed to confessing. I didn’t agree to being closeted like some embarrassing coat.” ****  
** **

Legs crossed, Trevor uncrossed them to fold up, wrapping his arms around his knees. Selling his unwillingness to listen, he arched both borrowed wings around, curling one, then another over his head. Every winged android came with its own built-in hiding place. ****  
** **

“Oh, sorry, Trev. I know, I must be so  _ unbearable _ to listen to.” ****  
** **

“Hey. If you're gonna rant, do it to someone who will listen.” Sitting up a bit straighter, Charlie crossed one leg over the other, miming a more interested position than he was really feeling. But it was what he saw on the television, whenever a therapist came in - and Joey could use all the distractions he could get. “Tell me what's on your mind, then. Let's get to the bottom of this.”  ****  
** **

With a humorless smile, Joey crossed his arms, wings camping against his shoulders. “Oh, on the contrary, Doctor, I don’t think there’s a bottom to this. And if there is, your cop buddies are gonna be the last people to ever tell. You don’t think Henry was more than some randomly-selected victim? After what almost happened to you?” ****  
** **

Rampant speculation. That was an improvement over complaining for complaining’s sake. ****  
** **

Albeit not by much. ****  
** **

“I dunno, Joey. I thought it was sorta a… wrong place wrong time sort of thing. You… don't think that?” Leaning a bit more forward, Charlie's brows furrowed at trying to wrap his head around what Joey was saying. “Henry wasn't - I don't get what you're saying.”  ****  
** **

“C’mon, Charlie, don’t be dense. Think about the sequence - your near-miss, then Henry gets bled out. And it just so happens a new RK model gets sent to the same trash pit out on Zug Island, finds his body. Then that  _ same _ RK900 runs a scan on you, leaves that warehouse address in your head…” Trailing off, Joey’s smile faded. “I don’t like how it sounds, either, for the record.” ****  
** **

He didn’t need top-notch scanning software to peg at least two commonalities. ****  
** **

“I don't think - there's no reason he would be a part of anything.” Charlie stumbled over his words, trying to find some other explanation. The way Nines acted, there was no way any of it was simply him being used to set something up, right? But what other explanation was there, when Joey put it like that? “The address thing was an accident, dude, I promise. Because, like, why Henry, then?”  ****  
** **

“The fact he couldn’t tell you either means he doesn’t know, or he does, and was just trying to appeal some other way. Dude went out of his way to preen your wings? Even if you didn’t say what he wanted to hear, his little pity-the-loner ploy is probably all an act. He  _ looks _ like Connor, but he isn’t Connor. Don’t confuse the two.” ****  
** **

“I'm not. I don't really think it's an act, though, he really - he's all isolated and stuff. That's not an act.” There was nothing they could really say to change each other’s minds at this point, but it didn't stop Charlie from trying to come up with some weak defense. “Not like I had much to tell anyways, if it was that.”  ****  
** **

“And you believe him when he says the file was an accident, a glitch? Who else is there to tell you different?” Joey shook his head, feathers bristling in mounting agitation. His oddly-serious side was showing past all the layers it was typically rearranged under, bottom of the deck. “Connor does a little browbeating, saying he means well, while Nines chats you up, says it was all a mishap. Between you and us, we shouldn’t trust what any of them have to say. And especially not if it’s what got Henry killed in the first place.” ****  
** **

So there was the stab in waiting: getting close to the sky cops led to those one cared about getting hurt. ****  
** **

Then, if he was so clairvoyant, why didn’t Joey try harder to stop them from going to Delray? ****  
** **

Charlie opened his mouth to say something back, something he would probably regret, before closing it with a snap. What was Joey trying to say, that he started this, somehow, going to the police station after the humans tried to tase him? That wasn't fair, at all, was it? His own wings wrapped around him slightly in defense as he tried to think of what to say next.  ****  
** **

“I… had to come here, after my brush, they said so. And I don't think Nines would just  _ do  _ that. You don't have to be - so untrusting, Joey. I'm not an idiot, it's not like I wouldn't be able to tell if they were trying to trick us. Drop it.”   ****  
** **

Scoffing, Joey did no such thing. Perhaps a night’s respite had changed his mind as to what this all indicated. But there was no call to keep taking issue with the same people who told Charlie to come to them if he needed help. ****  
** **

Without them, who else would Overclocked have on their side? ****  
** **

Joey’s bandaged arm was his own doing. Not the polices’. ****  
** **

“Oh, don’t make me laugh, not about this. Sunglasses, really? Were you that taken with Connor you forget the fact you just barely met? Fucker’s so full of shit, his eyes are brown.” ****  
** **

“He helped me, Joey. If he hadn't, I probably wouldn't have my wings.” Charlie forced himself not to hiss the words out, taking a glance at Trevor still sitting, covered, on the floor. They fought sometimes, but it was never fun, or pleasant, for anyone else hearing it. The closed quarters were only going to exacerbate them all if they continued. “I'm not saying he's - perfect, but he  _ helped.  _ Shut up. There's no need for us to argue, right now.” ****  
** **

Joey’s feathers quavered again. “Helped, how? By keeping us in this mixing bowl? Some idea of help. If he was half as good as you think, and fast as you say, we’d already be back at the depot by now.” ****  
** **

“Obviously he thinks this is for our own good. If it wasn't, we would be back there.” That was the only thing that made sense in his head. Molly had come, and if Connor told her she couldn't take them home, then it must be for a reason.  ****  
** **

A good reason. ****  
** **

“Yeah? And how do you know they’re not just winding us up, setting the stage just how they need it to be, stringing Molly along on false pretense? Cops  _ do _ that kind of shit, Charlie, act like they’re your best friend one minute, toss you under a bus the next.” ****  
** **

Shaking his head, wings arched up, Joey strode over, unabashedly leaning down to growl in his face. “Your buddy isn’t that good. He would do it, if it meant solving a case you clued him into. He’d pluck your wings off just as soon as save them.” ****  
** **

“Get out of my face, Joey. Doesn't exactly help your point.” Charlie flinched back at first, before glaring back up at him. This is really how he wanted to talk this over, using some kind of half-assed intimidation? It was Joey - it wasn't gonna work on him. Probably. “You're just being an asshole now, because you're upset we're in here. I get it, you're paranoid about cops - I got it the first time.”  ****  
** **

“Well, if you’re not gonna be leery enough for yourself, someone has to be!” Voice elevating, even if it wasn’t a shout, Joey’s arms and wings snapped out in tandem, feathertips almost reaching wall to wall. “You think they’re not just looking for an excuse to decommission us? Because you know that’s what  _ happens _ to wingless androids - scrap heap at best, secondhand parts store at worst.” ****  
** **

Backed against the wall, Charlie leaned back from Joey, mouth opening again to shout something back at him, before his eyes were drawn to the glass, almost all his anger leaving him at the sight of who was standing there. One of the RK800 models - the one loitering on the station roof the time he tried to enter, Nick - was standing there, eyes wide. His hand was hovering by the pad to let himself in, on the verge of touching it, wings wrapped around him as if he were nervous as well.  ****  
** **

Instead of whatever he was about to say, Charlie looked back up at him, before tilting his head toward the glass. “...Joey?”  ****  
** **

“What?” Folding his wings back in one sharp motion, the taller android turned his glare toward said window. Spying just who was lingering there, his tone only went a few degrees friendlier: “ _ What _ , Stretch? You need somethin’?” ****  
** **

“I - sorry to interrupt, but I need all three of you to come with me, please.” At that, Nick placed his hand on the pad, letting the door open as he shuffled partially in the doorway, taken the scene in with some clear anxiety. “Whatever is happening here - do you… need help, before that?”  ****  
** **

Though he said nothing, the slight rustle of feathers brushing feathers announced Trev’s reentry to the scene at hand. His brown eyes peeked out from between two parted layers of plumage. “What gave it away?” ****  
** **

“Mainly the shouting. What's - what's wrong?” Nick tried again, walking himself fully into the room, eyes roving from Trevor, to Charlie and Joey. “Do you need anything, or any help? I know it's stressful to be in here.”  ****  
** **

“How about you start with letting us go back to Brightmoor?” Almost grumbling, Joey refolded his arms. He didn’t make any move to attempt to leave. “That’d be nice.” ****  
** **

“You can, soon. We just need to - ask a final set of questions. Something like that.” Nick shrugged, as if he wasn't really sure of just what exactly he was getting them for. “But after that, they said you're free to go.”  ****  
** **

Trevor’s feathers gave another rustle as he properly refolded the appendages behind his back. His arms remained wrapped around his knees. “What… kinds of questions?” ****  
** **

He had a point. ****  
** **

What could the DPD ask them that they hadn’t a dozen times already? ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

More of the same queries were to ensue. The difference this time would be the setting. One of the recreational floors a few levels down from the depot itself provided a nice, semi-quiet setting to question Trevor. And specifically him, mostly alone. ****  
** **

Jackie Torrance stood over the proceedings, hands on her hips and a borderline-suspect gaze drawn down on them all. Catching a glimpse of it, even Trevor seemed to fold up and retreat inward, as if he expected her to ridicule him before their interrogator, then and there. ****  
** **

Her namesake counterpart, Jacklyn, ceased scampering around long enough to half-vault over the couch. Leaning up against his arm, shoulder-to-shoulder, Jacklyn looked equal parts inquisitive and aggravated to make unexpected new acquaintances. ****  
** **

For what it was worth. Going by the homemade, crocheted halfmask and silky yellow cape tied around her neck, Nick could already see this near-teen looking model was another strange one of the bunch. ****  
** **

Not that she gave him much time to appreciate her bizzarity before commencing her own interview: “So you’re some kinda ‘new’ sky cop?” ****  
** **

“Kind… of?” Nick brought his hands up to his chest, forcing himself not to wring them. Being trusted with something like this, he would do best to try and appear as calm as he could. “I'm a prototype, to help the police.”  ****  
** **

Maybe if he answered their questions first, they would let him get through his own quickly, and then he could leave before long. This wasn't familiar territory by any means, which just added to his nerves. Being three to one in this situation didn't help, either - there was no one he could hide behind. It was just him.  ****  
** **

But for some reason Lieutenant Anderson didn’t object. Maybe because he couldn’t. Maybe it was a vote of confidence. Or maybe he simply didn’t want Connor or Dennis involved in this arm of the investigation. ****  
** **

Hank had been a policeman far longer than any of them. His instincts were usually right - ****  
** **

“But they already  _ have _ sky cops,” Jack objected. Without much ceremony, she reached across his chest, grabbing the model-numbered lapel to pull it over for a closer look. “What makes you so different?” ****  
** **

He let out a startled whine at being grabbed, but made no moves to pull back or away. He hunched over even more than he already had been, trying to disappear as much as he could. Really, he was the worst possible choice for something like this. “Different because we… we do more specialized investigations? I don't… know.”  ****  
** **

He really didn't. The knowledge was probably available to him, but he had never had a need to look at it. Usually he was just content enough to do what he wanted. And for some reason CyberLife and the Department humored him. ****  
** **

Jack seemed to get the message. Sparing him a look that was almost pitying, some of the aggressiveness leaving her face, the smaller android let go.  ****  
** **

“Well, you must be some kind of good at it,” Diane Torrance -also known as Jackie - commented from her place just adjacent to the couches. “What did you want to ask Trevor, now that Charlie and Joey aren’t fighting over top of him?” ****  
** **

“Uhm… it's about that first day, with Henry? We don't really…know anything, it feels like.” Nick confessed, giving Jackie and Jack one last wide-eyed look before turning his attention to Trevor. “Do you remember anything? I guess, just sort of - what happened, exactly?”  ****  
** **

Understandably, the owl-winged android had been slow to speak up. Here, he only looked marginally more comfortable. Being back home usually meant answers from semi-traumatized witnesses came easier. ****  
** **

Being informed they were basically under house arrest/witness protection, with police patrols keeping a noted eye on the building, had only loosened Trevor up so much. ****  
** **

Picking at his sleeve, he glanced away, biting his lip. After a moment, he shyly looked back. “I - went over this with the other cops. Henry just asked if I wanted to swap out that day. Said he had to go to Lansing, and that never takes but a few hours, round trip, if the weather is good.” ****  
** **

Still hunched over the back of the couch, Jack climbed forward to sit cross-legged on the cushion. The wings under her cape bunched up accordingly. “I would’ve done it faster. They wouldn’t have caught me.” ****  
** **

Nick blinked at her, but nodded without thinking. No reason to start anything by questioning what she was saying, not when he actually had something to do. Which was - what? Question Trevor again? What was he even supposed to be discovering?  ****  
** **

“Nothing else?” he persisted, almost hopeless sounding. Not like he really expected the android to know anything else. But if he was supposed to ask, he would ask. “I know it's - I know it’s probably no, but… just in case.”  ****  
** **

Trevor shook his head. “No, but - he knew what almost happened to Charlie. Molly was only letting us out for the usual clients’ orders. Nothing out of our delivery norms. There’s no way Henry would’ve been on the ground anywhere between here and the capitol.” ****  
** **

Jack scratched at the edge of her mask, glancing sideways at the unorthodox investigator at her right. “Don’t you guys see a lot of that, androids going missing?” ****  
** **

“Not really the - sorta thing that we usually investigate, so I'm not really sure. I don't really know how often that happens.” Nick shrugged, letting his hands wring themselves as he tried to think of anything else he was supposed to ask. Didn't they already know all this stuff? What else was there to know? “So it was just someone you already delivered to… and he wouldn't have gone anywhere else.”  ****  
** **

“Corporate and municipal documents make up seventy-percent of our business. Traditional mail didn’t go extinct, it just went airborne.” Striding around to stand between Trevor’s couch and the bay windows overlooking him, Jackie’s slanted posture didn’t ease up. She didn’t look ready to ask that they end the meeting there, but was clearly gearing up for it. “You’d be surprised how many firms still prefer to keep hard copies.” ****  
** **

“They trust their fire alarms that much, in other words,” Jack added, tilting her head as she favored their visitor with another probing look. “Point is, Henry got grabbed, it had to have been here or in Lansing. Not like another android would’ve just knocked him out of the air.” ****  
** **

“Connor could have…” Nick mumbled, moving to stand up. But what other android could do a divebomb the way he could? And it wasn't him - that was a ridiculous thought to even entertain for a second. Shuffling a step backwards, gearing up for his own exit as well, he tried one final question. “Who was it? That he was delivering to?”  ****  
** **

Before Jackie or Trev could answer, Jack interrupted with another grab at the corner of his jacket. Her inquisitiveness knew no boundaries, clearly, including those of a personal nature. “What do they have you keep in your pockets?” ****  
** **

Trevor frowned, albeit not at being asked what he was. “ _ Jacklyn _ .” ****  
** **

Taking a glance down at his pocket, Nick let out a short sigh when he realized just what was in it. Giving her a nod to go ahead and check - because, well, it seemed like she would anyways - he tried to explain. “Nothing, really, but… there's a human detective who received business cards as a joke. No one knows who gave them to him, so he handed them out to see if he could tell who it was. That's what it is.”  ****  
** **

Plucking said card out, examining it for herself up close, Jack’s eyes only seemed to widen. With the mask, it was effectively hard to say if she were amazed or exasperated. “Is it for real? Whoever has one can call him whenever?” ****  
** **

Taking a moment to think, Nick couldn't help but let out a tiny grin. Gavin Reed had been nothing but rude to him and his partners, stepping on his wings and generally being unpleasant. If he gave this out, how would it ever get back to him? ****  
** **

“...Yes. Whenever, I'm sure. He's - happy to help.”  ****  
** **

Even in the short ten minutes he had known her, little Jacklyn had a different spark of zest different than Charlie or Joey. She wasn’t in it for mischief. She just went where her curiosity took her. ****  
** **

Given the go-ahead she smiled, stashing the card in her own pocket. “Thanks!” ****  
** **

“As for where Henry went,” Trevor interrupted, with such forced pleasantness he may as well have just come out as annoyed. “You’d be better off asking the folks at McGarthy’s Prints. They’ve been wrangling some suit brought against them by a customer for almost six months. The defense firm they’re with is based in Lansing. That was who needed the documents.” ****  
** **

Arms still crossed, Jackie raised both eyebrows. “You got all that, Officer?” ****  
** **

“Yeah, thank you. I'll - I'll take my leave.” Taking another step away, toward the elevator doors, Nick hesitated before speaking again. “Sorry you three were in there for so long. I hope you feel better soon.”  ****  
** **

Giving him only another sheepish glance, Trevor started at the feeling of Jackie setting a hand on his shoulder. The next instant, Jacklyn bounded over to jump up on the couch next to him, with a rough hug for effect. ****  
** **

“He’ll be okay, I’ll make sure of it.” ****  
** **

Such childlike certainty. How nice must it have felt to be so assured? To have those who would unconditionally offer support when you needed it? ****  
** **

Even if Charlie and his brothers were messed up, for lack of a better term, they had better emotional anchors than anyone at Central had to offer. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Unlike Charlie, or any of the other couriers at Overclocked, Nick didn't need explicit permission of when it was okay for him to fly and when it wasn't. It was just assumed that he was doing so for the right reasons, being a sky cop. Such a position had its perks. ****  
** **

Which, maybe, wasn't fair. Nick wasn't the best flier by any means, and he didn't really have a reason to decide to do so instead of walking, or taking a taxi. Walking would mean interacting with others, fending off their curiosity (after Jacklyn, he had had his fill), and taking a taxi would mean enduring traffic. Both of those scenarios gave him anxiety, making it harder and more time-consuming to find his way back. Flying simply felt like the safest form of transportation for him at the moment.  ****  
** **

At least, that's what it felt like for a few minutes after going aloft. It was peaceful, then the sensation of invisible pinprinks started on the back of his neck, like someone was watching him. It happened every now and then at the station, making him raise his head only to see someone like Hank or Connor looking at him.  ****  
** **

Nick frowned, taking a pause, before turning around slightly to see if there was anyone behind him -  ****  
** **

To look right back at himself.  ****  
** **

Or, no - not himself, another android who looked uncannily similar to him. For a moment the shock of the mirror-like image made Nick hang there in the air, making for an uneasy glide, staring back at eyes that looked like his, a face that looked like his, but it was blank and lined, like this stranger was somehow older, and had nothing beyond base programs in his head, no thoughts of his own - just like Noah had looked at first glance.  ****  
** **

No life behind the off-green eyes. ****  
** **

His wings were different. Raised in a descending swoop, too long and blue, as well, the underside being brown feathers fading into white, before going back to brown tips. One hand outstretched toward him like a hawk trying to grab his prey.  ****  
** **

Wait - not trying. This new, related-looking android  _ was _ going to grab him if he didn't move, and quick. No time to stop and dwell on who this was or what it meant, not now.  ****  
** **

Letting out a shriek of confusion and fear, Nick skittered backwards from him midair, wings flapping as hard as he could force them without any damage, trying to outpace the other android. ****  
** **

Already he knew there was only a slim chance of succeeding. Central Station was still five miles away. And his wings weren’t built for velocity like Connor’s, or for sharp maneuvers like Dennis’. ****  
** **

Still it didn’t mean he couldn’t put on the speed on and try. ****  
** **

Next the shadow overtook him, he yelped again and dove, trying to evade another snagging grab. ****  
** **

“What - stop!” Nick cried out, still moving, away from him as fast as he could, trying to process just what was going on. If anyone else were there with him, like Dennis or Connor, they could have helped, urged him to go faster or leave them behind to deal with it, kept his apparent-attacker at bay, but he was alone.  ****  
** **

Weaving through a series of short alleyways earned him no distance. Cresting a few smoking rooftops, dodging water tanks and antenna arrays, he lost ground, if anything. ****  
** **

There was no reply to his plea, just the black-jacketed android steadily matching him, move for move, approaching because he was faster, somehow, than a state-of-the-art prototype sky cop, some android whose model Nick couldn't even tell because he had no idea who this was, or what he wanted.  ****  
** **

It was a mere couple of seconds before he had caught up again, hand out to grab at Nick - for what? What did he want, to make him crash? - and even as he was ready to try and turn around, make some final, desperate dash away  ****  
** **

( _ And finally realizing he should get help through the commlink, or call the police, call Hank, why didn't he do that, fear freezing up all the meager rationale he had in the beginning)  _ ****  
** **

it latched onto his arm, yanking him closer, but not down. Giving another cry, wings pistoning frantically to try and keep this awkward hover, Nick tried to duck and jerk out of the grasp, wide-eyed as he stared back at one's like his own, but there was no light in them. ****  
** **

No one home, like Hank would say.  ****  
** **

For a second nothing happened, just the two ( _ strangers, they were still effectively that, even if they looked the same)  _ androids staring back at each other before Nick finally realized just what was going on, skin melting away where the hand was still latched on.  ****  
** **

The android was going to go through his memories. ****  
** **

If not worse. ****  
** **

He had no way of knowing which was more likely.


End file.
